


Terms and Conditions

by canadduh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: OC Insert, F/M, Hayden Skinner OC, Original Character(s), Physical Disability, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadduh/pseuds/canadduh
Summary: Hayden Skinner, a grad student from Seattle, ends up in London. A London where Sherlock Holmes is a real person and she really wishes she had read the terms and conditions before accepting help from Mycroft Holmes. Not that she had a choice, considering she doesn't technically exist.





	1. Cobblestone

The sound of hooves on a cobblestone street was what alerted her to the fact that something was different. More than different, it was wrong, there were no horses in the middle of Seattle, well not really, and there were no cobblestone streets, well, not really. Sure, the occasional police patrol was on horseback and in the more touristy areas you could find cobblestone. However, she should have been at home, where she had been the moment before.  


Hayden glanced at her watch to check the time, in case she had just not been paying attention to where she was going or something like that, only to see that it still said 11:44. Which was the exact time she had gotten her lazy ass off the couch to do the dishes, a task she had apparently not completed.  


Usually at this period of the day, Hayden would have been at school or her nannying job. However, the family she nannied for was on vacation, and she was on spring break herself. When she went back to school, she would be completing her last quarter of graduate school to obtain her masters in both education, drama, as well as a certificate in psychology, something she only recently discovered was a thing.  


A honk of someone’s car horn brought it to Hayden’s attention that she was about to step into the middle of a busy street. At some point in her musings, she had started to walk. Realizing, again, that she was not at her house anymore.  


“I must be taking some freaky shit,” Hayden said as she looked around the area. The street was busy with both pedestrians and vehicles. Red double deckers and black taxis sped past, causing Hayden to do a double take.  


“Nope,” Hayden said before turning and walking into the nearest cafe, “I’m dreaming.”  


She sat down at a table without ordering anything and put her hands on her head, lowering her elbows, so they rested on the flat surface. She planned on just waiting the dream out. One of her roommates should home soon, and they would probably wake her up.  


When she checked her watch again, it said 12:01 and she let her head slip past her hands to land with a thud on the table. She then looked around the cafe she was in, noting that the time on the clock was eight in the evening. Hayden quickly put the pieces together and decided that she was most definitely dreaming.  


“I can’t possibly be in the U.K.” She assured herself as she pinched her arm with her eyes closed. When she opened them, and nothing had changed, she sighed, “this is officially the most bizarre trip of my life. And I don’t even do drugs.”  


Hayden shook her head before standing to go outside. She was just about to go to the door when she ran into someone. The other person prevented her from falling back, and she gave them a grateful smile.  


“Sorry, I’ll watch where I’m going next time,” Hayden apologized, the other person just gave her a nod before walking past her and up to the counter.  


Hayden was halfway down the block when she realizes that the person she had run into looked like a celebrity that she knew from a show that she avidly followed. She turned to walk back to the shop before realizing how stalkerish that would be of her.  


“Damn,” She groaned as she continued down the street, deciding again to wait for the blasted dream to end.


	2. Parks and Rec(reational singing)

Three days. 

She had been in London for three days. 

Sleeping like a vagrant on the streets, which, in a way, she was. She had fifteen American dollars in her pocket which were worth around ten pounds. She had ten pounds to her name plus the clothes on her back. 

Hayden was lucky she had found a coat the first day and was able to dry it out at a laundromat without being caught. 

She was also lucky that she could sing because that had gotten her a few extra pounds on the second and third days. She was becoming less and less convinced that she was dreaming and more sure that she had been dreaming. That her life in America had been a dream to help her escape reality. 

But that may have been the lack of sleep talking. Hayden had gotten maybe three hours of sleep in the few days she had been there. She was usually moving from place to place, walking from park to park and square to square, hoping that she’d find something out. 

She’d stopped at the library for a few hours earlier that day to find out that it was February Fifteenth, two thousand and ten. Of the fifteenth of February two thousand and ten, because she was in London and the Brits were odd. 

She’d almost got hit by a car near Piccadilly because she forgot that they drove on the left side of the road in the U.K. She’d stepped in front of a taxi and a young man with sandy blonde hair had pulled her back. 

“Careful, love,” The man had said, “we do things differently here.” 

Hayden had just nodded before walking away, keeping her head down. 

Now Hayden was in Hyde park, reading the Evening Standard as she sat on a bench. She was looking at the local news when a movement caught her eye. 

She looked up to see an older man leaning on a cane, walking next to a man about the same age wearing glasses. The first man looked put out by something while the second one looked thoughtful. Hayden had a weird deja vu moment but shook it off. There was no way she could have experienced this before. 

She shook her head and folded up the paper before heading off in the opposite direction of the two men, in search of a good place to perform for the day.


	3. Pink

Three weeks.

Hayden had been sleeping on the streets for three weeks.

She'd managed to find a set of abandoned, unarmed, and decently warm, flats near Brixton. She was glad to finally be out of the crowded, and dangerous, Central London. On her tenth day in the city Hayden had nearly been mugged, she would have been if some good samaritan hadn't called out to her, pretending to be her beloved.

The two had parted shortly after, Hayden not wanting to get involved with anyone. She was trying to figure out what had happened to her and slowly getting more and more closed off. Obviously, she was insane and she did not want to inflict that on anyone else.

So there she was, sitting in a flat in Brixton when she heard footsteps. She supposed it could have been another homeless occupant, the flat had a few of those, but one of the sets sounded almost forced. She was curious as to why so she crept out of the room to see an old man with a newsboy cap and a woman dressed horrendously in pink.

She had another deja vu moment, something that hadn't happened since she had been at hyde park on her third day in London. She shook her head and crept back into the room she had claimed, moving to the corner and hoping the duo didn't enter. She didn't care what others got up to as long as it didn't involve her.

On the floor below her, she heard a door open and she let out a sigh of relief. Then she had a flash of concern for the woman. If she was about to get raped or killed then it would technically be Hayden's fault for not stopping it.

But there was nothing she could do. There were no phones in the building, she had no weapons, and she was pretty sure she saw the newsboy man holding a gun. There was no point in getting herself killed.

So instead, Hayden carefully made her way out of the building and into the night, looking for the nearest telephone booth to call the cops in. She had just left the booth when she saw a cab drive by and the profile of the newsboy man caught her eye. She saw a flash of pink in the back seat and let out a small breath.

Obviously, the cabbie had made a mistake.


	4. Of Incidents and Injuries

Week three day four found Hayden in an alley near some college with severe injuries. She knew it could have been worse but the sudden influx of cops in the area had obviously deterred the group attacking her from going any further.

She doubted that the cops were for her. She'd been following the cabbie in another cab when she had gotten out two blocks before the college. She had paid and he had driven off when Hayden first felt someone grab her. She'd tried to fight back but she didn't even know how to throw a proper punch.

Something she learned about herself when she broke her hand attempting to punch one of the men.

The man had laughed and punched her jaw, at the very least knocking it out of the socket. Hayden suspected it was broken, though. That would be just her luck. She had then been bruised and battered by the group of three men until they had heard approaching sirens.

Hayden was not holding out hope that they would find her. She was trying to move towards them only to find that she couldn't get her legs to work. With a frown Hayden gave up her attempt to move, instead praying that someone would find her.


	5. DI Lestrade

Apparently, her prayers weren't ignored. She woke up, what she was told, two days later with a floating feeling in her body. She felt detached and somewhat aloof like nothing mattered anymore.

The doctor informed her that the feeling was because of the medicine she had been given after surgery. She had apparently been punched in her spine, which would explain why she couldn't move her legs, and would have to undergo a copious amount of physical therapy, and potentially more surgery, to be able to walk again. Her left arm was in a cast and placed into a sling that was tight against her body to prevent her from moving it.

Hayden took it all in rather well, but she blamed the morphine they had her hooked up to for that. She requested to have it removed, the stuff was addicting and even in her half-drugged state she was concerned about getting dependent.

Several times over the next several days she regretted that decision. Especially the first time they had her sit up. It had pulled and tugged on areas that she hadn't even known were injured. The doctors had almost put her back on the morphine before she had started panicking about it. Instead, they gave her something that would just numb the pain without the chance of her getting addicted.

She'd been hospitalized for a week when she realized that no one had called her by her name. And she only realized this because a cop had shown up in her room at some point while she was sleeping and she was asked her questions about herself.

"What's your name, sweetheart," The man asked with a kind smile. He was an older man with graying hair wearing a nice suit Hayden thought her looked familiar but she couldn't be sure.

"It's Hayden, sir," She told him honestly, already know that he wouldn't find a record of her anyways, "Hayden Skinner."

"Where do you live, Hayden?" The man asked after jotting some notes down.

"The lovely streets of London," Hayden said with a satirical grin, "one night it was Green Park near Buckingham, the next it was Regents, the nex-"

"Okay," The man interrupted, rather rudely, "Where are you from."

"Seattle," Hayden said, sobering up, "Seattle, Washington."

"And when did you come to London," The man asked.

"About a month ago, I think," Hayden said

"And why are you here?" The man asked.

"Because I got beat up by three men after trying to find a new place to sleep," Hayden half lied, not wanting to tell the man she had been following the cabbie, as she had been doing since the lady in pink in Brixton.

"Okay, so-"

"What's your name?" Hayden asked, wanting to take the attention off her situation before she became overwhelmed. She could feel herself breathing heavier than normal, "I think it's only fair since I told you mine."

"Lestrade, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."


	6. The British Government

Hayden was moved to a nicer room three days later. She was extremely confused as to why until a suited man entered, leaning on an umbrella. She regarded the man quietly, waiting for him to speak.

"Hayden Skinner," The man said, "You do know there's no record of you, yes?"

"Kind of hard to miss, sir," Hayden said, playing along with the man.

When she had been properly introduced to Lestrade she had passed out due to an influx of information overwhelming her mind. The doctors had determined then that it was too risky to overwhelm her. She was becoming frustrated with how gently they were treating her now.

"And why is that, Hayden?" The man asked, tilting his head to the side and regarding the young woman.

She knew what he saw. A young woman with sunken eyes and an ashen complexion. Wispy brown hair that fell to her shoulders and looked brittle and ready to fall out. A body that was nearly skin and bones and covered in yellowing bruises. It was what she saw on the one occasion she had seen herself in the mirror.

"Maybe I'm on the run from an international gang. Maybe I angered the current emperor of North Korea. Or it might possibly be that I'm running from an abusive relationship with Donald Trump." Hayden said, all of it sarcastically, "Or it might be, possibly, none of your business."

The man, with a speed she didn't think him possible of, was suddenly next to her bed with the umbrella laid out across her neck. She blinked up at him with an almost manic smile and a matching gleam in her eyes.

"Do it," she whispered, "It's not like it matters, no one's gonna miss me and nobody's gonna know it was you."

After a moment the man backed away, lowering himself into a chair and placing the umbrella between his knees before giving it a twirl. He regarded Hayden for a moment, who watched him with the same blank expression he was giving her.

"You're interesting," The man said, "I can't get a read off of you."

"Might be because I haven't showered in a month and a half," Hayden deadpanned.

"My name is Mycroft," The man introduced, "I'm going to be your patron."

"And what would I need a patron for?" Hayden questioned.

"Hospital bills, a chair, therapy," Mycroft said, sounding bored, "Which, if you're not a UK citizen, has to be paid for by you or your insurance. And since you don't exist, Ms. Skinner, you might need a ."

"Fun," Hayden remarked, "And why are you so interested in me?"

"Because I saw you following the cabbie," Mycroft said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the umbrella, "You were following him before even Sherlock was."

"I saw him walk in with that pink lady in Brixton," Hayden said with a shrug, "So when I found him again I decided to follow because I thought it would be interesting," She gestured to her legs, "I wasn't wrong."

"Most people wouldn't have followed him, they would have called the cops," Mycroft remarked innocently.

Hayden shrugged before asking, "And in return for you helping me, quite literally, get back on my feet what would you have me do?"

"That's more like it," Mycroft said with a smirk.


	7. 221C Baker Street

Hayden was released from the hospital three weeks later. She was wheeled out by a woman apparently called Allison, not that Hayden believed her. She knew for a fact that she had been called Anthea at one point.

"He couldn't even pick me up himself?" Hayden whined as the chair was strapped down in the van and she was moved into a seat with specialized straps to help keep her stable. Hayden felt grateful that there wasn't a crowd and that Mycroft's employees weren't staring too much.

"Mr. Holmes had a meeting come up, Ms. Skinner, he sends his apologies," Allison said, no hint of sincerity in her voice.

"Whatever," Hayden grumbled as the doors were shut and the van sped off.

Over the past three weeks, Mycroft and the occasional Allison (or Anthea, or Elizabeth, or Margaret) were her only company. When Allison was there the two talked about the going ons of London's, mainly government details, how things worked and what not. When it was Hayden and Mycroft the two discussed a cover story of sorts, except it wasn't exactly a 'cover', considering most of the details were true.

She was going to be working for Mycroft and living at 221C Baker Street. Evidently, it was the only place that Mycroft could find for cheap enough to make accessible to her.

And that was because Mrs. Hudson had a soft heart and gave Hayden a year for free since she hadn't been renting out the flat anyways. Hayden found it terribly cliche and boring. She didn't want to live in a place where she had to interact with anyone, as she was being expected to interact with Sherlock, apparently.

Mycroft had said part of their deal was that she needed to keep him updated of the going ons at 221B when she wasn't busy with the work he would be giving her. Apparently, Hayden was going to be a glorified babysitter and a second P.A, working closely with Allison, who was at the time Elizabeth.

"Ms. Skinner," Allison said, gaining the woman's attention, "we're here."

"Joy," Hayden replied, before preparing herself to be lifted into the chair by two strangers. She was getting better at getting out of the chair but wasn't quite to the point where she would be able to get from the seat of the van to the chair on the ground.

Hayden rolled herself to the ramp that had been set up leading a platform just big enough for her chair. The knocked on the door and was surprised at the quick answer, almost letting go of the wheel she was holding to keep herself still.

"Oh dear," The woman who answered, Mrs. Hudson, breathed, obviously not expecting the tired looking Hayden. She quickly shook her head, though, "You must be Hayden, come in dear."

Hayden wheeled herself in past Mrs. Hudson and then waited for the woman to take the lead. She quickly led Hayden down the hall and down another ramp leading to yet another door. This one, Hayden was surprised to see, was automated.

"He's outdone himself," Hayden murmured as Mrs. Hudson hit a code on the keypad and then told it to Hayden.

"1776," Mrs. Hudson said and Hayden couldn't help but smirk, it was an obvious reference to Hayden's American origins. "It's not much, and I'm surprised you're willing to stay here, but it has been made more accessible for you."

"It's perfect," Hayden said, looking around the small flat.

The living room led straight into the kitchen/ dining room, eliminating the need for doors. The appliances were new and sleek. The floors were entirely a dark wood and the furniture was a mixture of white and teal that Hayden found quite pleasing. There were two doors off the living room. One led to a bathroom that had been widened so that she could move around easier in it. The shower contained a built-in shower chair and the toilet had bars that she could use next to it, attached to the walls.

Her bedroom is what really brought tears to her eyes. The twin sized bed was at the perfect height and the head was against the singular window that was covered by a blackout curtain that was easy enough to move. The thing that really got her was the wall of bookshelves that, on closer inspection, was filled with plays, classics, and other books that Hayden liked to read.

"I hope this will work for you, dear," Mrs. Hudson said when they were back in the living room.

"It's perfect, Mrs. Hudson," Hayden said with a small smile, "seriously."

"Oh no," Mrs. Hudson said with a glance at the clock, "I have to go, I'm so sorry, you'll be fine on your own, right?"

"I can manage, thanks," Hayden said with a small smile, "if not I'll just pester Mycroft until he personally comes to assist me."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Hudson said before letting herself out of the flat.

As soon as it was clear Hayden's smile dropped, like it always did when she wasn't in the company of others. She wheeled herself into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for something to eat.

On the bottom shelf, there was a container with a note on top. She picked up the note and read it.

Ms. Skinner,

Hope you are settling well, if you need assistance do not hesitate to contact me. Here is dinner for tonight, the fridge will be replaced and restocked tomorrow. I hope you will join me for breakfast tomorrow so that you can get more acquainted with your new job.

-Mycroft Holmes

Hayden tossed the meal in the microwave before tossing the note. She would meet with Mycroft tomorrow, but right now she wanted to eat and then sleep.

Which is exactly what she was trying to do until there was a knock on her door.

"Give me a minute," Hayden yelled from her position on the bed. She sat up and then maneuvered her legs so that she could easily swing herself into the chair. She adjusted her legs onto the footplate before wheeling herself to the door.

Hayden hit the button to open the door before rolling away, missing the shocked look on her guest's face. She turned when she didn't hear footsteps and smirked at the man in a jumper.

"You can come in," Hayden said sarcastically, "that tends to be what it means when a person opens a door."

"Oh," The man said before stepping into the room and looking around curiously, "I'm-"

"John Watson, I know," Hayden said with a smirk, "I know, I'm currently employed by Mycroft. And I've read your blog. And Sherlock's, it's all very fascinating."

"You've read my blog?" John asked, well, almost squeaked.

"Yes," Hayden said, smirk only widening, "It's impressive how much that man doesn't know about the world. Such as when it is or isn't polite to enter a person's flat."

John followed Hayden's gaze to see Sherlock easily perusing Hayden's movie shelf. He shot Hayden an apologetic look before going over to talk to the other man. John grabbed the movie Sherlock had in his hand and put it back on the shelf.

"Not good, Sherlock," John told him before walking back to Hayden, who was just smiling at the two of them.

"It's alright," Hayden assured John, "I'm sure he already knows everything he needs to know."

Sherlock, however, was watching Hayden with a frown. He glanced around the room as if he was unsure of himself before turning back to the woman who was wheeling a tray full of cups to the living room. John moved to help but she just waved him off, only for the cups to slide off her lap.

Hayden looked at the cups with a frown before shrugging and turning her chair to face the kitchen, wheeling herself back in. She started making the tea again, ignoring the mess she had previously made.

Sherlock watched as John moved towards the broom closet only to have a tea bag chucked at his head, hitting his cheek with a thud. The both of them turned to Hayden who was not paying them any attention.

"If you try to clean that up it's going to be a cup next," Hayden warned before giving the tea her full attention.


	8. It Would Be More Fun at a Disco

The three had chatted, well John and Hayden had, for around an hour. The tea wasn't mentioned, though Hayden had cleaned it up, before Hayden had shown the two out of the room, saying that she needed an early night.

Which wasn't a lie, she wanted to shower, and tidy up a bit, and start a load of laundry and cook and run around. And all these things she couldn't currently do without assistance. Even earlier when she had tried to clean up the cups John had had to hold the dustpan for her.

So instead of doing anything she wanted to do Hayden went to her room and pulled out a journal. She had started writing in it two weeks prior, at the suggestion of her physical therapist when she had noticed how frustrated Hayden would get when she couldn't do something.

Her therapist had suggested she wrote out her feelings in a journal. And when the journal was complete she could either read through it to see her progress, or she could toss it. Even just writing everything made it a whole lot easier. She had gotten through half a page when suddenly her hand went clammy, the pen clattering to the ground.

Hayden attempted to wheel herself out of the room and into the bathroom, where she kept her medicine, but she couldn't get a grip on the handhold of her wheels. She grit her teeth before reaching for her phone, a gift from Mycroft, which she kept in a small bag hanging off the arm rest. With immense concentration, Hayden managed to unlock the phone and dial Mycroft's number. She put the phone on speaker before setting it in her lap.

"I can't make it to the bathroom." Hayden said immediately after hearing Mycroft answer, "and an attack is coming and I need- I need to -" Her breathing had sped up and she could feel her eyes start to water. She tried to hang up on Mycroft but her hands were shaking too much now for even that to happen.

Hayden was trying to control her breathing, using a technique she had learned from her physical therapist when she heard footsteps in her flat. She tried to turn and see the person that was going through her medicine cabinet, but the movement of her torso made her nauseous.

Hayden tried to lean forward to avoid getting vomit in her lap but she knew she wasn't going to make it. She closed her eyes in mortification, only opening them when she was ordered to by a gentle female voice.

She looked up to see Allison with a glass of water and two pills. Hayden gratefully took the pills when offered and gulped the water down. She immediately started to feel better, her breathing went back to normal and her hands stopped shaking so much. Five minutes later and it was as if the panic attack had never happened.

Allison helped Hayden clean up and shower without a complaint, or any talking really. Once she was ready for bed Hayden thanked Allison who left without any fuss. Hayden then slowly crawled from the chair to her bed. She adjusted her legs so that one was on top of the other so she could roll onto her side in her sleep and then grabbed the book, Orwell's 1984, off her end table and opened it to the dog-eared page.


	9. The Meaning of Existence

Two days later found Sherlock sitting on her couch as Hayden read, this time, it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. His excuse had been that Mrs. Hudson was cleaning and it was bothering him but Hayden knew he was studying her.

By the look of frustration on the detective's face, Hayden guessed he wasn't getting far. She set her book down and watched him as he openly studied her, not breaking the silence in the room for nearly ten minutes.

"If you can't figure something out you can just ask," Hayden said, breaking the silence and Sherlock's concentration.

"Why do you not exist?" Sherlock asked after a minute

"Oh, so you looked me up?" Hayden asked, wheeling into the kitchen to make some tea, a task she was determined to complete without assistance.

"Yes," Sherlock said, "I even had Mycroft look you up when I couldn't find anything. Are you running from something?"

"I owe a tax collection of ten billion dollars to the IRS which is why I moved to England and changed my name," Hayden said seriously before cracking a smile at Sherlock's raised eyebrow.

"I'm actually an ex-assassin trying to make a living off of selling Avon magazines and wheelchair decorations."

"Hayden," Sherlock said reprimandingly, "do not insult my intelligence."

"Was I being too creative to make it believable?" Hayden asked with a mock frown, she sighed at the glare that Sherlock sent her way. "Fine, I was actually in my last year of grad school studying to be a drama teacher when I was transported from my room for unknown reasons only to end up in an alternate universe in which Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are real people and not just characters from one of the most successful literary creations in the world."

"Hayden I said no more-" Sherlock stopped upon seeing her face, "you're not joking, or at least you don't think you are."

"I'm not crazy if you're wondering," Hayden said quietly, losing the burst of confidence that had caused her to say all of that to Sherlock. A man she had met only two days ago. "Mycroft already checked me out for that when I told him."

"Mycroft believed you?" Sherlock asked, looking shocked

"No, which is why he had me checked. I convinced the shrink that I was saying that to piss Mycroft off and see how far I could go. Testing the waters and all," Hayden explained as she slowly wheeled over to the living room with a tray of tea balanced on her lap. "The tea is actually part of the physical therapy, you don't have to drink it."

She placed the tea on the table and then went back to the kitchen to start preparing her dinner. She was immensely grateful to Mycroft for making everything in the kitchen accessible to her. Hayden was determined to not be a burden on anyone.

Twenty minutes later found Hayden with an ice pack on her hand and Sherlock setting her pot of spaghetti on the dining room table. Hayden was trying her best not to cry from the frustration she felt with herself.

She was surprised when Sherlock didn't use it to tease her.


	10. Advice From the British Government

"What do you want, Sherlock?" Hayden asked as she wheeled into the living to find Sherlock on her couch with a book propped open on his lap. It appeared to be The Great Gatsby. Hayden raised an eyebrow at the man. "Didn't know you were into classics."

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Sherlock informed her as he stood and grabbed a tray of food, "Mrs. Hudson demanded that I bring you tea and food for reasons unknown."

Hayden nodded accepting the tray before watching Sherlock walk out of her flat. She found herself oddly touched by how he had waited for her to wake up, rather than just leaving the tray at her door. Never mind the fact that he had broken into her flat.

Hayden gratefully ate the food and drank the tea before going back to her room to finish getting ready for the day. Today Hayden was planning to visit Mycroft after her therapy session. She found herself missing the man after their near constant contact of the last few weeks.

Her therapy session went as normal, she moved her legs around and did the exercises she was told to do. She talked with a shrink for five minutes and then got herself back into the car Mycroft had provided for her. She directed the driver to Mycroft's office, having gotten confirmation that the man was there and not in some world saving meeting.

The office was richly decorated with antique furniture. The colors were dark and earthy and Hayden thought that it fit the man that most often used them.

"Hayden," Mycroft greeted when Hayden was in the office. He didn't smile but Hayden could see his shoulders relax a tad.

"Mycroft," Hayden returned the greeting while she accepted tea from the man she was beginning to consider her friend.

"What brings you in?" Mycroft asked as he took a seat in one of his more comfortable office chairs set to the side of his room. He started pouring tea from the set that was left next to the seat.

Hayden wasn't sure if she had an actual reason for visiting Mycroft. There was the beginning of an idea but until it was fully formed she would not be able to explain it to Mycroft. Instead, she gave the older man a small smile.

"Am I not allowed to visit my favorite British Government?" Hayden teased, accepting the tea that Mycroft offered her. She rolled her eyes at his raised eyebrows, "Fine, I was thinking of something and I was hoping that talking to you would help me figure out if it's actually a good idea or if I'm just bored enough that I'll do anything to get out of Baker Street."

"You're coming to me for advice?" Mycroft asked with mild surprise.

"You are the only reason I am able to get on with life," Hayden reminded the man, "you should be expecting me to come for advice a lot more often than this."

Mycroft simply nodded, waiting patiently for Hayden to continue. When he noticed that she wasn't going to he frowned. "Hayden?"

"Sorry," Hayden said as she started to play with the wheels on her chair, moving them forward and back, "I just... Ugh,"

"Just say what you want and I'll tell you if it's a good idea or not."


	11. Prescription

"They're prescription," Hayden assured the DI as she popped two pills into her mouth before washing them down with water, "what brings you here?"

Lestrade shrugged, "just thought I'd check up on my favorite Jane Doe."

Hayden shot Lestrade a wry smile, while she appreciated his attempts at humor she was not in a humorous mood. She had just broken her favorite mug and was getting frustrated with herself over the fact that she even had a favorite mug, seeing as how Mycroft had already had to replace the ten he had originally bought her.

"Thanks, Lestrade," Hayden sighed, "but I'm managing."

"That's not what Sherlock said," Lestrade paused then, thinking better of it, but it was too late.

Hayden rolled over to Lestrade, trapping him on the couch with her chair, and glared at him. Lestrade had the sense to look contrite and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Hayden backed up an inch.

"I may be confined to a chair for the foreseeable future," Hayden said, "but that does not mean I am helpless."

Lestrade glanced at her hands which were covered in healing scars, some from broken glass, others from burns. He remembered John mentioning a spilled pot the other day and was finding himself growing more concerned for the young woman in front of him.

"Lestrade," Hayden said with a shake of her head, "I'm fine, stop worrying so much. If I don't start taking care of myself now I'll never be able to do it."

"Okay, but remember you're still human, Hayden," Lestrade said as he stood up, "and everyone needs help sometimes, there is no shame is asking for it."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks, Lestrade," Hayden said before seeing the detective out.

She went back to her room to collect a bag and throw it over the handles on the back of her chair before wheeling herself out of 221B and onto the street. She was met by Allison, now going by Helena, who was to take her to her Thursday physical therapy session.

"Detour today, or no?" Helena asked as Hayden buckled herself in. After two months of living at Baker Street Hayden was finally able to get herself situated in the van by herself, even if it took her ten minutes to do so.

The detour Helena had mentioned was to see Mycroft, something that was becoming rarer the more Hayden was able to do on her own.

"Not today," Hayden said with a small smile, "though afterwards I'd like to visit Scotland Yard."

"Of course," Helena said, shooting a text that was no doubt to Mycroft, conveying this information.


	12. The Land of Idiots

Scotland Yard was quiet, no one speaking above a whisper, when Hayden rolled in. Helena had dropped her off about five minutes prior and Hayden had used that time to send Lestrade a text, informing him she was coming.

"What does a teacher want with Scotland Yard?" A voice behind Hayden said, she didn't need to turn to know it was Sherlock.

"Option a- I'm here to request their services, option b- I'm here to offer my services," Hayden said as she wheeled into Lestrade's office, having seen the man beckon to her.

"Which is why I'm asking," Sherlock said as he walked in behind her, "what have you got to offer?"

Lestrade glanced between Hayden and Sherlock before shrugging helplessly. He was vaguely interested in seeing how Sherlock reacted to Hayden's proposition.

"Lestrade," Hayden greeted, "how's the wife?"

"She's alright."

"She's sleeping with a co-" Sherlock turned to Hayden with a glare, "why did you hit me?"

"Hand slipped, now shut up. I'm offering my services to Lestrade."

"And what services would that be?" Lestrade asked curiously.

He'd gotten to know Hayden over the past few weeks and he was curious to see what it was she would offer. He knew that whatever she offered would be something she was capable of. Hayden was sure of her abilities and simply avoided the things she couldn't do.

"I have a degree in psychology, emphasis on social and criminal psychology," Hayden watched as Lestrade's face morphed into a look of confusion and Sherlock a look of understanding. "Basically, Lestrade, I studied why criminals do what they do, and also how, though I wasn't able to major in that because of my drama degree."

"So what you're saying is-"

"What she's saying, detective inspector, is that she wants to help solve crimes from the sidelines." Sherlock interrupted him, "which might actually be helpful considering the sidelines just means she won't take part in the actually catching of the criminals and you guys could use the help as you are all idiots."

With that Sherlock swept from the room, his coat billowing out from behind him. Lestrade and Hayden both shared a look before Hayden burst out laughing.

"That's pretty much what I was suggesting except I was going to leave out the idiot part, I didn't want to offend you."


	13. No One Likes Anderson

"She doesn't seem particularly bothered," Hayden heard Anderson mutter from somewhere behind her, "do you think she could be another one like him."

The disgust in his voice told her that he was referencing Sherlock. She was overcome with the urge to smack his smirk into next week.

Soon after Lestrade had accepted Hayden's proposal a murder had been called in and Hayden had been allowed to come to the scene. Sherlock was there as well, but Hayden was sure that he had asked to come along.

From what she could see of the scene it did not require Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.

The flat was small and thankfully on the first floor so Hayden hadn't needed much assistance getting in. The living room was covered in images of a young married couple, obviously newlyweds. The couches and chairs were mismatched and there were no rugs covering the cold hardwood floor. Something that spoke to the fact that the two occupants were living off a single income. She also got that from the fact that there was a to-do list and the top was "get job" written in a sloppy masculine scrawl.

On the couch, there was a throw that looked home made and uncomfortable. Hayden assumed it was a gift before moving on into the kitchen, where the body had been found.

It was a small kitchen, the appliances were old and the counters were covered in grime. The body on the floor was covered in ants and Hayden had to resist the urge to throw up. She schooled her face into a mask before rolling forward to inspect the injury that had caused the death. A knife could be soon protruding from the woman's back. Hayden shook her head, obviously a crime of passion. The woman wasn't wearing her ring but the man's ring was sitting on the counter.

"Check his grandma's house," Hayden said, "she was cheating on him with her boss and he got jealous."

"She's definitely another Sherlock," Sally grumbled and Hayden turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"I solve one crime and you put me up there with Sherlock? Your opinion of him must be very low, Sally dear."

"Wait, we're supposed to just take her word for it?" Anderson asked, gesturing to Hayden with a look of disdain, "she couldn't even get-"

"In the building without help?" Hayden finished coldly, "okay fine, you want me to walk you through it since your pea sized brain is too small to keep up?

"Newly married couple recently moved in living off her income. How do I know this? The only pictures up are of their wedding, and some older ones presumably from when they first started dating. On a to-do list are the words "get job" written with a man hands writing. How did I know she was sleeping with her boss, you ask? Well her phone is open and the messages are from James 'boss', obviously the contact hasn't changed since she got her job. The message reads, 'last night was good, let's meet again soon, winky face' and obviously her husband saw the message and they got into a fight. She took off the ring, he stabbed her, took off his own ring and went to his grandma's. Obviously, it was his grandma's, you don't keep an uncomfortable knitted throw on your couch unless it was a gift from your grandma."

She had said that all very slowly and condescendingly, maintaining an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with Andersen the entire time.

"At least getting up a few stairs is the only thing I need help with, Anderson."


	14. Babysitter John

"Thanks but I can manage," Hayden said to Mycroft as the man glared at her, "I've been managing for weeks."

"You're covered in burns."

"I don't need a babysitter," Hayden argued, her voice louder than she had intended it to be, "I'm doing just fine, thanks for the offer, though."

"It wasn't an offer," Mycroft said, almost hesitantly, "I've already hired someone."

"Who?" Hayden ground out, "who's the lucky person that gets to spend time with me?"

"John Watson," Mycroft said, "I figured you'd be more comfortable with him than with one of my doctors and he's quite capable."

"Does John know this yet?" Hayden sighed.

"Not yet, I was hoping for your approval first," Mycroft said, and Hayden had to admit that she felt touched by the amount of effort he was putting towards her wellbeing.

"Why exactly are you doing all of this for me, Mycroft?" Hayden asked after a moment of silence, "you could have just left me in the hospital to fend for myself."

"You're an interesting person, Hayden. And I think you'll be a great asset to our country," Mycroft said.

"Oh don't get all patriotic on me, Mycroft, it'll bring a tear to my eye," Hayden joked, "we both know it's because of my charming personality."

She shot Mycroft a wink, and he just shook his head at her. He had no idea why he had such an interest in Hayden. All he knew was that he was glad Lestrade had contacted him when he'd discovered something was up with the girl.

He was aware that someone like Hayden could either become a great friend, or a great enemy. She had a strong personality and was obviously a lot smarter than she let people believe. She was cunning and observant with her friends; he didn't want to experience what she was like with her enemies.


	15. Doctor John Watson

"You don't have to stand outside the door, John, I know why you're here," Hayden said as she sat the cup she was holding down on the table. "Can we just make this quick for both our benefits?"

"I'm not exactly sure what it was Mycroft wanted me to do," John said honestly as he stopped a few feet in front of Hayden.

"He wants you to check daily to make sure I'm eating properly, my burns and cuts and whatever injuries I manage to get are healing, and I'm not forgetting to take my medicine." Hayden listed out

"Oh, yeah that's pretty simple. I'll just do that then," John said before getting down to business.

When it came time to check the burns Hayden was impatient. John had cooked her a meal and watched as she took her lunch time dose. She was about ready to chew the doctor's head off when she heard a slight gasp from John.

She looked down to see what he had noticed and let out a small sigh, taking her arm gently from his and covering it self-consciously. She usually wore long sleeved to prevent others from seeing her arms.

"They're old, John. From my teenage years. There's no need to worry." Hayden assured the man, "I've been clean for six years."

"Oh, well, good. That's good." John said with a tiny smile, "everything seems to be healing well and all that. How's physical therapy going?"

"They've upped it to thrice a week because once wasn't enough. Now I have upper body on Mondays, swimming on Tuesdays, and legs on Thursdays." Hayden told the man, "though swimming is more like floating currently."

"It'll get better eventually," John assured her, "I've seen people make full recoveries from worse."

"Thanks, John," Hayden grinned, "now, I need to look at these files for a cold case Sherlock gave me. He wants me to practice or some crap like that."

"I'll leave you in peace then," John said, knowing his welcome had come to an end.


	16. The Adventure Begins

"Keep it down," Hayden yelled up the stairs, not at all pleased about getting woken up by the sounds of Sherlock fighting, "some people here need to sleep."

"Bored," she heard Sherlock yell even as the sounds of fighting continued.

"Just hurry it up already," Hayden yelled back, fighting to keep her amusement out of her voice.

"Done," Sherlock shouted back, and Hayden grinned as he yelled: "bored!"

"Don't forget to hide the sword," Hayden shouted just as John entered the building in a huff. She gave him a smile and went back to her flat to get changed, knowing that Sherlock would be going out soon and wanting to be apart of the adventure.

Helping Sherlock and Scotland Yard on cases had become Hayden's reprieve. It gave her something to focus on that wasn't her inability to do things for herself. She even found that she enjoyed the banter between herself and Sherlock. She was never afraid of arguing with the detective, and as such, they had a lot of petty arguments, often about Hayden's observations (Sherlock was hesitant to call them deductions, as she often missed things).

Hayden left her flat to wait on the ground floor for Sherlock and John. She had called earlier for a wheelchair accessible taxi; she'd been left to wait before because Sherlock was in too much of a rush to wait for a cab she could use, while London had been accessible when she had been there that was both in the future and in a parallel universe.

When Sherlock and John rushed down the stairs neither one was surprised to see her. John had joked about her having a sixth sense for adventure during on of his daily check ups.

"Going to the bank I see?" Hayden asked with a smirk, not missing the surprised look that had crossed the detective's face.

"Wh- how did you know?" John asked as Hayden waited for the boys to enter the taxi. It was easier for everyone if she got in last.

"Superhuman hearing," Hayden said in a whisper, like it was the biggest secret in the world, "when I was younger I was bitten by a bat and-"

Sherlock was glaring at her, and Hayden couldn't resist the urge to banter with him.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" Hayden said with a smirk, "you know you love me, Sherl. No need to glare to hide your feelings."

"It's Sherlock," the detective growled.

"Sherl," Hayden teased, she turned to John, "actually I'm from an alternate universe where all of this is a tv show with you and Sherly as the main characters."

"Not this again," Sherlock huffed, "do you tell this story to everyone?"

"No, only those who matter. Mainly you, John, Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, Anderson-"

"Anderson?" Sherlock asked, latching onto the name.

"No, I was just checking to see if you were actually listening," Hayden grinned as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the bank. Hayden quickly undid the attachments to her chair and rolled out of the cab, she went ahead of Sherlock and John, knowing the two would catch up.


	17. Friends

"Keep it down," Hayden yelled up the stairs, not at all pleased about getting woken up by the sounds of Sherlock fighting, "some people here need to sleep."

"Bored," she heard Sherlock yell even as the sounds of fighting continued.

"Just hurry it up already," Hayden yelled back, fighting to keep her amusement out of her voice.

"Done," Sherlock shouted back, and Hayden grinned as he yelled: "bored!"

"Don't forget to hide the sword," Hayden shouted just as John entered the building in a huff. She smiled at him and went back to her flat to get changed, knowing that Sherlock would be going out soon and wanting to be apart of the adventure.

Helping Sherlock and Scotland Yard on cases had become Hayden's reprieve. It gave her something to focus on that wasn't her inability to do things for herself. She even found that she enjoyed the banter between herself and Sherlock. She was never afraid of arguing with the detective, and as such, they had a lot of petty arguments, often about Hayden's observations (Sherlock was hesitant to call them deductions, as she usually missed things).

Hayden left her flat to wait on the ground floor for Sherlock and John. She had called earlier for a wheelchair accessible taxi; she'd been left to wait before because Sherlock was in too much of a rush to wait for a cab she could use, while London had been accessible when she had been there that was both in the future and in a parallel universe.

When Sherlock and John rushed down the stairs neither one was surprised to see her, John had joked about her having a sixth sense of adventure during one of his daily check-ups.

"Going to the bank I see?" Hayden asked with a smirk, not missing the surprised look that had crossed the detective's face.

"Wh- how did you know?" John asked as Hayden waited for the boys to enter the taxi. It was easier for everyone if she got in last.

"Superhuman hearing," Hayden said in a whisper, like it was the biggest secret in the world, "when I was younger I was bitten by a bat and-"

Sherlock was glaring at her, and Hayden couldn't resist the urge to banter with him.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" Hayden said with a smirk, "you know you love me, Sherl. No need to glare to hide your feelings."

"It's Sherlock," the detective growled.

"Sherl," Hayden teased, she turned to John, "actually I'm from an alternate universe where all of this is a tv show with you and Sherly as the main characters."

"Not this again," Sherlock huffed, "do you tell this story to everyone?"

"No, only those who matter. Mainly you, John, Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, Anderson-"

"Anderson?" Sherlock asked, latching onto the name.

"No, I was just checking to see if you were actually listening," Hayden grinned as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the bank. Hayden quickly undid the attachments to her chair and rolled out of the cab, she went ahead of Sherlock and John, knowing the two would catch up.


End file.
